Purple Shirt
by RobertDowneyJrLove
Summary: Sequel to Gray Sweater...Ilsa's choice of clothing leaves room for revenge on Chance's part and backs her into a corner.


_Great! _

He knew she favored expensive clothes, which wasn't the problem, she could afford them but the clothes she favored tended to reveal more skin than should be appropriate for a work environment. The _infamous _gray sweater as a perfect example. Stupid little thing barely covered enough to call it a sweater but she said that it was comfortable to wear to the office with that piece of black fabric that she was calling a skirt. This time though, the top was some kind of soft looking shiny purple fabric with a v-neck that dipped low enough to necessitate something be worn under it.

Or so he thought. Ilsa, not so much.

Don't get him wrong, the woman could pull it off. Absolutely no doubt about that, whatsoever. He just wasn't sure his shower could supply his constant demands for icy cold water. His shower could only supply so much before he ran out.

Oh boy! This day was guaranteed to be an absolutely blast.

"Hello, Mr. Chance."

Her voice was soft and her eyes looked softened and sleepy. The softness of her voice and eyes combined with the v-neck of her purple top was enough to give her a sultry yet somehow innocent look. The shiny purple set off her dark complexion nicely and the contrast of the shiny purple to her jet black curls added a certain element of drama to the ensemble yet at the same time, the softness of the jet black curls against the shiny purple toned down the sultriness of, well, her.

"Hi I-Ilsa." He managed to strangle out the greeting, trying not to let his eyes drift down to her generous cleavage from his place on the couch.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips as she leaned down toward him and pressed her lips against his in a soft, almost teasing kiss. She pulled away just as he was about to deepen it. She grinned sweetly as she walked away from him to her office. A string of expletives flew from his mouth as he followed her with his eyes until she sat down at her desk.

"Whoa, dude!" Guerrero laughed as he caught the tail-end of the string of expletives flying from his friend's mouth. "You've developed quite a colorful vocabulary."

"Yea, Guerrero, I'm spitting rainbows here." Chance grumbled sarcastically as he stood up, brushed past his friend and ran up the stairs to his place. "That woman's going to be the absolute death of me."

The icy cold spray of his shower as he started it up and stepped in was enough to settle him slightly and get his body back under his control before he decided to do something decidedly politically incorrect. Not that he cared, but he figured Ilsa might.

She didn't seem like the type to rush into anything and he wasn't going to either, he had definitely learned his lesson from the last time.

As he stepped out of the shower, re-dressed and towel dried his damp hair, he couldn't help but think about Ilsa and the thought of possibly hurting her and how it would kill him if it were to ever happen. The woman had invaded more than just his head and as much as he _really _hated to admit it, he was starting to adore the woman.

Adore.

There it was. The truth.

He was starting to adore the beautiful billionaire, who possibly knew more about his birth name than he did.

Now if he could just stop staring at the deep v-neck of that stupid purple shirt, he'd be in pretty good shape. He let his dark blue eyes drift down to the gray t-shirt he had pulled over his head and let a mischievous smirk pull at his lips.

He could go without a shirt. Again.

Then again, Ilsa had just had her nails done and the idea of those sharp nails meeting his damp flesh was not something he cared to experience. Now or ever again.

The image of her generous cleveage drifted into his thoughts and almost immediately he was reaching for his t-shirt and pulling it over his head.

_Ah, screw it!_

Ilsa could scratch his entire body but he wasn't likely to start caring anytime soon considering the fact that he would be too wrapped up in her to care what in the world she did to him. Hell could freeze, pigs could fly or the world could end and he'd still more than likely be way too wrapped up in Ilsa to care about any of it.

Bring on the torture.

xxx

Ilsa Pucci knew from the moment she slipped into the silky purple blouse that morning that the second Chance saw her all activity in the brain would cease to exist. Sure enough, all basic functions had shut down and he had barely been able to greet her. She also knew that he would be exacting revenge in whatever way he saw fit. If she knew him like she thought she did, he'd probably go shirtless the rest of the day.

"Guerrero, can you do me a favor?" Ilsa asked the older man, who was as per usual for him, rummaging through the fridge. "I'm almost certain Chance is going to be coming down any minute and I'm certain that he will be without a shirt, could you adjust the thermostat just enough to make him a little uncomfortable?"

"In which direction would you like to take this discomfort?" Guerrero asked her.

"I want to make him sweat a little bit. He stays in the main lobby when he's not in the conference room or at his place so could you just mess with that thermostat a little to make him a little uncomfortable?" Ilsa asked him.

"Sure." Guerrero nodded stuffing a clump of what could have been fried rice in his mouth. "I'll do it now."

He walked out of the kitchen and went to mess with the thermostat to help Ilsa mess with Chance. Once the thermostat was adjusted just enough to make Chance sweat a bit, Guerrero left them to their game of torture.

"Have fun!" Guerrero laughed as he walked into the elevator just as Chance was coming down the stairs, shirtless of course.

Chance looked at him oddly as the silver doors slid shut and the elevator dropped with a soft swoosh. He looked around and noticed Winston and Ames in the conference room going over some paperwork and Ilsa doing work in her office, acting as if Guerrero hadn't just left with a oddly cryptic message. He made his way to her office and poked his head in the door.

"Are you aware that Guerrero just left?" Chance asked her.

"Oh yes, he asked me for his pay early to buy his son a birthday present. I agreed and gave him whatever time he needed off." Ilsa let the lie slip easily as she tried to hide her amusement at his obliviousness. "I told him I'd be in here doing paperwork if he needed anything else."

Well that certainly explained the "have fun" comment but not why Ilsa had just lied to him. He knew Ilsa was lying because Guerrero's son's birthday wasn't for another month and he knew that because Guerrero disappeared with a certain amount of money on the same few days every year.

"Oh? I thought his son's birthday wasn't for another month?" Chance asked her innocently, crossing his arms over his bare chest as he stepped into her office. Her office was decidedly cooler than the lobby and made him acutely aware of the thermostat having been changed.

"Oh." Ilsa exclaimed, looking up at him. "Maybe he needed to do it early this year, maybe he has plans next month."

"Guerrero never makes plans on his son's birthday." Chance pointed out. "Well anyway, I guess I should go do some work. By the way, it's unusually hot in the lobby. Did he accidentally mess with the thermostat?"

He turned and started out, smirking to himself when he saw her eyes widen and her mouth form a distinct 'O' shape through the reflection in the glass wall, at having been caught in her lie. He continued out as if he hadn't seen anything, already knowing that she'd chase him down when she was ready to admit the truth.

That purple shirt was screwing with both of their heads.

"Mr. Chance," Ilsa called as she stood up from her chair and chased him out of her office.

"Yea?" Chance asked her, trying to hide his smirk.

"Well see I...I kind of.." Ilsa stumbled through her explanation as her cheeks flushed and her eyes shot to the floor.

"Had Guerrero play with the thermostat because you knew I'd be coming down shirtless?" Chance smirked as he watched her close her eyes and try to stop her cheeks from turning a darker shade of red.

A short string of expletives followed and he knew he'd found the truth. He laughed slightly as he watched her fumble and try to think of something to get herself out of the corner she had backed herself into. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"Shouldn't have worn that shirt." Chance mumbled as his lips descended on hers, swallowing her response as they let themselves get lost in a heated kiss.

"About time." Winston muttered from his view in the conference room. "Took 'em long enough."

"So is this going to be every week?" Ames asked stupidly.

He groaned as Ames let her mouth drop open and her attention went from the couple kissing to the pile of papers on the desk in front of her.

Oh yes, that was most definitely going to be happening every week, if not every day.

xxx

**Haha! This came out of nowhere and took an entire weekend to write :) So if you haven't, go read my other Human Target fic, Gray Sweater because this story makes several references to that story and you may have to read it to catch up! **

**Love you, **

**RobertDowneyJrLove **


End file.
